


Consort: Morning Rituals

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: The King's Consort [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha!Ian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Fingering, Bath Time, Bathing, Bottom!Mickey, Day 1 - AUs (general), Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, GW2017A, Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017, Jealous!Mickey, M/M, Male Lactation, Master/Slave, Mild Praise Kink, Omega!Mickey, Penis Lactation, Possessive!Ian, Royalty, Service Top, Sexual Slavery, Sub!Mickey, Top!Ian, baths, dom!Ian, enema, frothing, fucked up biology, king!Ian, lactatioin, mild (offscreen) scat, slave!Mickey, wineskin enema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: Mickey is under the king’s strict orders to be clean—everywhere. Every nook and unimaginable cranny must be rosy-fresh. No exceptions. Luckily for him, King Ian takes a very personal interest in his consort's hygiene.(Or: Ian gives Mickey a bath and an enema.)





	Consort: Morning Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: Gallavich Week 2017 A - AUs (general)
> 
> I apologize for being about 4 hours late in submission. I **did not know there was Gallavich Week**. As some of you may know, I've been in a slump. I had to force my way through this--fighting with myself tooth and nail to get this out. So, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> **WANRINGS:** Please read the tags _carefully_. This is some kinky shit. Not over the top ('cause I personally believe I've done worse) but nonetheless may be offensive to some. Again, READ THE TAGS. Let me know if I forgot anything! Thank you~

Mickey hates morning. He’s despised them as a child. Now though, with his role as a slave—the king’s _most favored_ —bed slave, he _loathes_ the very concept of a ‘day’ and the sun for ever being creates.

No, he isn’t being dramatic.

Mornings means that he has to prepare for the day. Prepare means getting ready for his duties, and part of it is washing. It isn’t the regular washing like bathing in a stream then rubbing himself in oils and salts.

His life isn’t that easy.

Mickey is under the king’s strict orders to be clean—everywhere. Every nook and unimaginable cranny must be rosy-fresh. No exceptions.

Today, for some ungodly—and, most likely, useless—reason, the alpha king decides to _help_ him.

“Hmm,” Ian says, hand stroking the crusty white evidence on Mickey’s skin, “It’s a shame the clean this all away. I like seeing you covered in my cum, Mick.”

Mickey couldn’t suppress his snort. “Course ya do. S’fuckin’ territorial alpha shit. S’not like ya yous gonna walk around in this shit. Shit fuckin’ itches.” Especially the gunk smeared over his sensitive nipples.

“Fine.” The alpha surrenders with a frown. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steaming hot water awaits them in a large bathing tub. Normally, Ian would be long gone and the water would be trepid by the time Mickey takes a bath. The slave uses only his master’s bath water to bathe.

He fidgets beside the brass tub.

Ian’s slides down with practiced ease. His blush blooms across his pale naked flesh, making his freckles darken.

Mickey’s mouth dries up. It cannot be denied that their king—his king—is a sight to behold. Planes of pale skin dotted with (and he will forever deny this) adorable freckles like constellations. He wants to trace patterns with his tongue.

“Mick?”

Ian’s voice breaks his reverie.

Mickey tears his eyes away from the bubbles with a huff. “Fuckin’ stupid. Will never fit. You long gangling fuckin’ limbs are takin’ up the whole space!”

Ian breaks into a smile. Water sloshes around as he moves, knees pressed against the edge of the tub. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

“You aren’t that big, Mick.” He laughs as Mickey’s scowl. “Get in before I haul your ass in here and we’ll have _less_ water to cover up you chastity.” The bastard smirked. “I can always order Caleb to bring more hot water.”

No, just no. Mickey won’t let that beefy beta near hi—Ian.

“Fine,” he groused, stepping into the tub.

It was a snug fit but a fit nonetheless. Water rises as high as his shoulders, dangerously close to the edge. Their bodies pressed back-to-front with barely any space between them. Ian’s whole larger, lengthier frame surrounds Mickey on all sides. The half-mast alpha cock snug between the omega’s cheeks.

Mickey ain’t stupid shit. He knows that horniness is half the deal—it’s always the deal with him and Ian. Nothing new there.

What’s new, however, is the way Ian’s large hands move over his body. It’s not sparking with anything overtly _sexual_. No, it’s just _soft_ and _gentle_ in a way that Mickey’s so often pretended not to notice nights which he shares the king’s bed. There’s something there—something more than just sex.

Soapy water gets into Mickey’s eye before his thoughts could get any further. He twitches on instinct, tossing water over. 

“The fuck!“

“Shit, Mick!“ Ian limbers half out to reach a dry cloth. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Fuck, I’ve never done this before. It looks easy when Caleb used to do it.“

Mickey growls under his breath before he could stop himself. Stupid fucking ass-taking beta asshole. Shouldn’t be able to fucking touch Ian. And, all this, he doesn’t notice that he’s saying out loud.

Strong arms wrap around him.

Ian chuckles from behind him. “Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me... so you _do_ like me... that’s _good_ ,” he purrs the last word, tongue darting out to lick Mickey behind the ear. “That’s so _good_ to know,” he praises, “my good omega.”

Mickey unconsciously leans into the touch. It’s _nice_. He hasn’t had nice in such a long time. Another shoe will always drop. That’s the story of his life. But, with Ian right behind him, the bad feels so far away.

Ian’s hands work their magic.

Other times, Mickey would have to do all the work himself but Ian’s taken over everything this morning. Ian scoops a hand full of salts—more than Mickey would ever dare use on himself—and gently scrubs over Mickey’s skin until bit by bit the crusty dried cum melts away in the water. It’s disgusting or it _should_ be.

Salt rubs roughly over Mickey’s skin. The omega hisses when it touches the healing bite wound in his shoulder. It’s not fresh but it’s new, just a few nights ago actually. Don’t listen to old wives tales when they tell say that alpha saliva magically heals wounds. That shit ain’t real.

Real life sucks balls and it fucking _stings_ like a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” the alpha whispers, kissing Mickey’s shoulder. “I’ll ask the healers for some more salve later.”

Mickey shrugs. “Whatever. Just get it off.”

Ian obeys obediently. He cups his hands, scooping water and pouring it over Mickey’s shoulder. It takes several handfuls before all the salts are gone. He runs a hand over the raw skin, kissing every where he can reach.

Mickey sinks into the caress.

Next comes the oils. Ian nearly finishes the jar. He layers it liberally across Mickey’s skin until everything is soft to the touch. By then, the omega’s in headspace that take him far, far away.

Mickey shivers as Ian’s hands dip below the water to work on more intimate parts of his body. He knows that this part comes next. It doesn’t mean that he has to like it. For brief second, he presses his knees together because this has always been something that he’s done himself after that first time.

“Mickey.” The name is a plea and a warning.

“Fuck,” Mickey groans as his legs fall open.

“Not yet,” Ian teases.

Mickey _hears_ the smile in the alpha’s tone. “Hurry the fuck up. You got them old farts waiting for ya.”

Ian growls lowly. “Let them. I’m their fucking king. If some shitheads side of old age, s’not my fault.”

Mickey barks out a laugh because that answer is so fucking Ian that his abs hurt from laughing. Ian’s hands playfully brush over his cock, making his laughter melt into a moan. By now, his body’s been trained to respond to even the alpha’s lightest touches.

“Hmm,” Ian hums knowingly. “I think it’s time to clean inside, don’t you think?“

Mickey bites back the “no” threatening to spill in embarrassment. He swallows it down, not wanting to show anymore weakness than he already had. This isn’t the first time but that doesn’t make it any less daunting. Ian hasn’t seen this side of him in ages.

“G-get to it, Firecrotch,” he stutters out, hating hlw much his voice shakes. “Let’s do this.”

Ian grins from ear to ear. “There’s my _Mickey_. Never afraid of anything.” He nudges the omega enough so he can stand, the  gracefully exits the tub. It’s unfair how long-limbed gingers can more with such natural fluidity, or maybe it’s just Ian.

“Up,” the alpha orders, arms open with the humungous brown fur cloth that’s meant only for the king.

If before Mickey would have scoffed at the gesture, he accepts in now with a nod. He’s learned quite some time ago that Ian doesn’t care for any of that hoolabaloo. Ian is Ian—the goofiest dork with the biggest heart underneath the roughened toughed alpha exterior. Mickey would be lying if he says that Ian hasn’t gotten under his skin.

“Thanks.”

There’s no need to turn around and check that Ian is smiling. Mickey keeps his back turned, hiding the rosy red highlighting his cheeks.

“Where do you normally do this?” Ian asks.

Goosebumps rise across Mickey’s skin, flushed from more than just the hot bath. “There,” he says roughly, pointing to the plush footstool with the carpet underneath. Already, the sloshing of water alerts him of what’s about to come.

“On your back,” the king orders.

“What the fu—ck!?” Mickey whips around to glare at Ian with wide eyes. “You fuckin’ outta your mind? No! I do it in hands and knees. Ain’t gonna fucking roll on my back.”

Ian isn’t fazed. “On your back, _omega_ ,” he repeats, voice laced with all his power, making it an octave lower. “Do it by yourself or I’ll make you. Either way, you’ll be on your back while I watch that pretty cock of yours beg for my attention. Your choice, _Mikhailo_.”

Mickey shudder at the tone. His body reacts automatically to the alpha. Slick dribbles down his whole no matter how hard he clenched. It’ll explode into a river the moment he relaxes. Wordlessly, he goes down onto the rug. The exposed beams of the ceiling suddenly becomes the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Good,” Ian murmurs the praise, hand sweeping over the fur. “Let’s take this off you. You wouldn’t want to ruin the fur.” He slides the blanket away from Mickey’s body.

Mickey blames the blast of chilly morning air for his shivery state, and not because there’s a strong alpha standing between his parted legs.

“Move,” he demands, “Fucking paint a picture.”

Ian does. He takes a the wine skin from beside him. There’s three in total. The first one has oil and salt, the second salt, and the last only filled with water. They look tiny in Ian’s hand but Mickey knows it won’t feel small at all.

“Relax,” Ian says gently.

“Your not the one getting shit shoved up the crapper!” Mickey bites back. “Jus’ fuckin’ do it.”

With a sigh, Ian takes open the jar of oil and liberally coats both his fingers and the nozzle. Warming up the oil because he’s a gentleman before carefully pressing his fingers to Mickey’s oil.

“Fuuuuck,” Mickey release a breath and his hole. A gush of slick and embarrassment flood out of him. “Ian,” he moans, because how can he not when Ian’s touch is so very good. “S’good. C’mon, more.”

“So pretty for me, Mick. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Mickey keens as Ian presses the nozzle inside. Immediately the flow of warmth pours into him. The cramps start just as early and he whimpers in pain. A constant pressure in his bowels threaten tp overwhelm him exceedingly fast.

“Calm down,” Ian says again, flatting his palm on Mickey’s flat stomach. “I need you to relax and let me do this. We need you clean, and you’re doing to good, Mickey, so goog for me.”

Mickey bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out. His stomach grows as it starts to fill with water, stretching as far as it can go without a child. It’ll double the size when he’s pregnant. Just the thought of carrying the king’s—Ian’s—children make his inner omega purr. Pups, he wants them. He wants their children loitering the halls.

“Fifteen of them,” says Ian with a grin. “No less than fifteen children, Mick. I’ll fill you up as soon as you’re ready after birth. We will fill up the empty rooms in the castle with our children.”

Mickey could only nod as the second bag fills him. It pushes him father than before. Consciously, he knows he’s taken more before but this time it feels so different. The heat of Ian’s gaze pierces straight into his soul. His cock stirs to life under the intensity.

Ian, the bastard, leans down and starts to suckle on the tip of Mickey’s cock.

Mickey spasms so hard that he kicks the alpha in the shoulder.

“Stop! Stop!” He begs, jostling his distended belly as he struggles to squirm away. A sharp pain jolts through his core. “Ahh, fuck!“

Ian’s already there, rubbing the area with his free hand. “You should get lashes for assaulting the king,” he warns, but there’s no heat behind his words. “I guess your punishment is up to me.”

He pulls the nozzle out and shoves his finger inside. “Bear down on me, Mick. Don’t waste the water.”

Mickey tries. He tries so hard that sweat breaks out from his forehead, knees shaking with the effort.

“Don’t let go,” Ian commands, pushing his finger deeper. “I’m going to rub you inside with my fingers. Don’t let the water out. And, while I am doing that, I’m going to have some fun with your cock. Don’t come. Just hold it in. Don’t let go until I say so. Got that, Mick? Or I’m going to plug you up and bring you the meeting like this until you’re begging to go. Then, you can go right there in front of all those fucktards who can’t wait. Which one do you want?“

“Ian, please,” Mickey breathes weakly.

Ian goes back to work—rubbing his finger along Mickey’s insides, sloshing the water. With a grin, he looks up at Mickey with the most innocent expression on his face before carefully swallowing the omega’s cock.

Mickey cried out. Tears spilled from his eyes. Ian’s finger kept moving. The heat of Ian’s mouth feels like it would melt him. Too much yet to little. His toes curled into the rugs. Fingers and hands gropes aimlessly until they land on the alpha’s firey red hair. Ian hums an approval, vibrating through Mickey’s cock.

Slowly but surely, Ian kept Mickey on the edge for what felt like forever.

Mickey wants go explode right then and there. His ass felt so loose that water keeps seeping through the edges. His balls are so tight that they just might burst. He wants—he wants until that all he can think about, whole body thrumming. Ian suckles at the tip and he spurts just a bit of milk. He’s torn between tightening his ass and pushing for release.

“Ian,” he half-warns and begs, “Ian, fuck, lemme cum—lemme cum.”

Ian pulls away with a pop. “You’ll the rug dirty.”

“I don’t give a shit, fuckface!”

Ian, in retaliation, squeezes his balls. “That’s _king_ fuckface.”

“ _Alpha_ ,” Mickey whimpers, “let me come.”

Ian doesn’t say anything but his face says it all—like a kid’s first sight of snow in the winter. His are shining brighter than the north star. He leans his entire frame over Mickey, trapping their cocks together.

“Let go for me, Mick,” he says, pulling out his finger before swallowing Mickey’s cries with a kiss. He kisses the omega deeply.

Mickey’s whole body locks up for half a second before releasing—tears, milk, and slick—all over the floor. The orgasm makes his lightheaded. Ian’s kisses steals his breath away. It feels like he’s run lapses around the courtyard by the time his orgasm dampens into a shudder. They don’t stop kissing though.

Ian loves his mouth in any part of Mickey, and Mickey secretly loves Ian’s mouth on his.

Warm dirty water seeps into the carpet. Their stomachs are covered in Mickey’s white milk. Sweat glistens over their skins. Early morning sunlight shines through the open windows. It’s the time of day when people are just beginning to wake up.

They’re both messier than when they started.

Fuck, there’s still another long day ahead.

Mickey _really_ hates mornings.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments to support my low morale, please?
> 
> As always, if you liked or enjoyed this fic, you should know what to do. **Comment/Kudos/Bookmarks** are always appreciated by this author. :) 
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)


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